“Alrighty. Let’s go be all incognito.” I watch her profile. Her stubbornness and determination not to look at me. Her pursed lips as she fusses with the seatbelt. “It would be embarrassing for the church girl to be seen with the thug.”
Her eyes narrow. “I’m not a church girl.”
“And yet, your first thought when trying to escape me is a nunnery…”
“No.” She turns with a glare. “My first thought when wanting to escape you is to smack you over the head with your security pans. They make a satisfying sound when used against a skull.”
“You’ve done it before?”
“Yup.”
I pull out of the parking lot and start moving along the rundown street. “Yeah? Did you report it? Did you go to the police and confess your crimes?”
“No.”
“To church, then? Ask for absolution? Drink some wine and call it a day?”
“Wine, yes. Church, no.”
Laughing, I press down on the accelerator and move toward the interstate. “Not as pure as I thought. You’re just a regular little criminal, aren’t you? I can see it.” I throw my hand over the back of the bench seat and stroke her neck. Not only doesn’t she shoot away, but she leans into it. “You pretend to be innocent. You bake cookies sometimes, too, don’t you?” Before she can deny, I push on. “You’re the Miss Goodie Goodie everybody loves. But one day, you’ll be on the news. Your husband will have died from a poisoned pie, and when the media interviews your neighbors, they’ll all claim‘But she was so quiet. This just doesn’t seem like something she’d do’.”
“Do you always do the breathy, girly voice when you’re trying to mock someone?”
“Oh, you mean that time I was being you?Oh, Kane. Yes, Kane. Fuck me harder, Kane.Nah.” I squeeze the narrow column of her neck. “That’s something new I discovered since meeting the world’s most sexually repressed woman. I dunno, Blondie. You bring these things out in me.”
* * *
Helpingher onto a stool at the counter that looks like it belongs in the nineteen-forties, I brush my chest along her back and chuckle as she arches away.
She wants me so fucking much, she’s going to give herself a hernia in an attempt to deny it.
I push my stool close enough that our thighs touch from hip to knee, and sit down with a grin as she revolts away from my broad shoulders.
Game on, Blondie. Let’s see who gives in first.
“What can I get you fine people?”
Fine people?
I glance up to find a buxom woman with bright green eyes and a smirk that screams trouble. Reaching out for the plastic menu that’s sticky with leftover grease and soda, I quickly scan the list, but before I can rattle off my order, Jess straightens her spine and pushes her chin out. “A job?”
The woman – Dolly, according to her tag – tilts her head to the side. “A job for you, Miss Fancy?”
I’m in love with Dolly already.
“No, ma’am. For him. He’s unemployed, but he’s good with his hands and knows how to work hard. Don’t let his looks fool you; he’s sweet as pie.”
Dolly leans on the counter and pushes her voluptuous boobs up until she almost smothers herself. “Did you punch yourself in the face, boy?”
I clear my throat to stop the laughter that bubbles up at being called boy. Snaking my arm around Jess’ hip, I pull her closer. “No ma’am. Someone else did it. But don’t fret; I got him back.”
She clicks her tongue with pride. “Good for you. I’m happy to hear that. But unfortunately, we don’t have any jobs going. We don’t get a whole bunch of business in here to warrant you.”
“That’s okay. I’m not actually unemployed, she’s just being sassy because she’s hungry. Can she get some of that sweet pie, please? And pancakes. Maybe draw a smiley face on them with berries and cream; she needs a pick-me-up. And bacon on the side.” I turn to Jess and force her stubborn chin around. “You want a milkshake, Blondie? My treat.”
“No.”
I turn to Dolly. “She’dlovea chocolate milkshake. We gotta put some meat on her ribs. Life is dangerous, and she needs a little fuel in her system to outrun the bears.”